


The woman in the fog

by TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving



Series: Rare ship creation challenge [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Implied previous major character death, Sam coping with the loss of his brother, canon compliant or AU, i don't really know how to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-17 01:58:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11265591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving/pseuds/TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving
Summary: Sam Winchester is watching the sun rise when the fog starts condensing into a woman.





	The woman in the fog

**Author's Note:**

> This was made for [the rare ship](http://rareshipcreationschallenge.tumblr.com/post/161107877392/rareshipcreationschallenge-what-is-it-a) challenge on Tumblr for the prompt **fog**.  
>  Partner: [wideawakeandwriting](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11313801)
> 
> As always comments, kudos and constructive critism is welcome; and - in case it wasn't obvious - I own nothing but the mistakes.

Sam always assumed he was the healthy one, the one too in touch with his emotions to make the same mistakes his father and brother had before him. Sam learnt the hard way that he coped exactly as poorly with loss as they had.

\---

The first time he saw her he’d thought he was hallucinating; not that farfetched an idea considering the three empty whisky bottles he’d left on the floor next to the motel bed he’d passed out on, and the bouts of insomnia he’d been plagued by ever since – he resolutely shoved that particular thought way back into his subconsciousness.

It happened as he tried to watch the sunrise. The fog billowing over the landscape suddenly thickening, whirling like a maelstrom before settling into the image of a woman. She was gone between one blink of the eye and the next, leaving Sam to wonder if he was finally losing his mind.

\--

Over the course of the next few months he saw her five times; always in the grey light of the predawn and always formed by the morning fog covering the fields; bogs; whatever vast expanse of land he happened to be near at the time.  
Sam had stopped picking up women around the second encounter, left the whiskey behind at the fourth, had tried catching her at the fourth but she’d avoided every carefully laid trap and merely laughed at him. 

The fifth time he’d sat on the hood of the Impala, almost empty beer in his hand when she’d suddenly materialized a few feet away from him. As always she wore a grey dress that clung to her slender frame, her long soft looking hair curling slightly around her face just covering her naked shoulders. Her mouth stretched wide on a smile, large; expressive eyes boring their way into his soul.  
It wasn’t until she was gone he realized tears were streaming down his face, the beer long forgotten at bottle shattered into a million pieces when it fell from his hands, unnoticed in his grief, inconsequential in his loneliness.

\--

He drove for hours. Never stopping for drink or food only for gas when the Impala was running low. When he began to tire he rolled down the windows and cranked up the volume of the radio, sometimes singing along to the song playing but most of the time forgetting it was even on. Not until he was more than half asleep did he stop, parked at the side of a road in the middle of nowhere, rolled the windows back up and made his way to the back seat where he promptly fell asleep.

He woke to the sun in his eyes, the last tendrils of morning fog being burned away by its warmth, and there, standing on the road in front of the Impala she stood, and he was out the door without making a conscious decision to do so, taking in the sight of her for the first time in full color rather than the pale grey he was used to. Now, in the clear light of the sun, he could see her dress was white, her skin tan, her hair and eyes a dark brown that reminded him of chocolate, her lips even more inviting in their almost colorless pinkness than they’d been before.

Sam has no memory of taking her in his arms, no memory of words being spoken between them and yet he knows that it’s an answer to his question when a voice that sounds so foreign and yet so familiar whispers in his ear  
_Ruby_

End

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted at [Tumblr](https://theydraggedmein.tumblr.com/post/162096974568/spn-rareship-cc-10-theydraggedmein-vs), as I have officially succumbed to peer pressure


End file.
